


Of Turkey Dinners and Drunken Confessions

by UmbraeCalamitas



Series: Become the Beast [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alcohol Poisoning, All the Sabriel, Angst, Archangel Gabriel, Attempted Suicide, Cadbury!verse, Comfort, Creepy Lucifer (Supernatural), Depression, Dick Jokes, Drunken Confessions, Drunkenness, Episode: s02e15 Tall Tales, FIx It, Feels, Fluff, Gabriel (Supernatural) is Loki, Gabriel Loves Sam Winchester, Humor, Hurt Sam Winchester, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Lucifer is a creep, Lucifer is a great big bag of dicks, M/M, Passive Suicide, Past Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester, Protective Gabriel, Rape/Non-con Elements, References to Norse Religion & Lore, Romance, Sabriel - Freeform, Sam Winchester Loves Gabriel, Sam Winchester hates Thanksgiving, Samulet, Sexual Humor, Stanford Era, Stanford University, Tall Tales, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Trigger Warnings, Underage Drinking, Voicemail, please tread carefully
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-05-01 03:02:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14511093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UmbraeCalamitas/pseuds/UmbraeCalamitas
Summary: Thanksgiving isn't a great holiday in Sam's experience. Too much whiskey and a loose tongue have him screaming obscenities at angels in the middle of the night. Sam might not remember what happened in the morning but Heaven's not soon going to forget.This occurs between chapters five and six ofOf Art Supplies and Ungodly Obsessions.





	Of Turkey Dinners and Drunken Confessions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WhinyWingedWinchester](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhinyWingedWinchester/gifts).



> **TRIGGER WARNING: Depressive thoughts, thoughts of suicide, possibly attempted/passive suicide by alcohol poisoning, sexual assault leading into non-con elements as per Lucifer being really fucking creepy. Please tread carefully.**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> This chapter has been set as it's own fic so it can be skipped if necessary. You are certainly welcome to read it, but if any of these elements listed above are serious triggers for you, note that the chapter is not required reading. If you wish, you may scroll to the end notes for a quick summary of the chapter itself. <3 
> 
> This work is being gifted to WhinyWingedWinchester, who has done so much amazing art for me and who is one of the most wonderful people I have ever met. I love your face, Trips. <3
> 
> Super thanks to the Discord Crew, especially HyruleHearts1123 and TotalNovakTrash, who read Cadbury as its being written and scream at me often. You guys are awesome.

**Of Turkey Dinners and Drunken Phone Calls**

Sam fucking hated Thanksgiving. 

It wasn’t the history of the holiday, although that was bad enough on its own, but Sam’s Thanksgiving “celebrations” never matched up with other people’s. Moving around from crappy motel to crappier motel meant there wasn’t much chance to sit down and have a good meal, just Sam, Dean, and their dad. 

More often than not, the two brothers had been left alone with enough money for a couple days’ worth of food only, and no indication of when their father would be back beyond the vague hope that it was before they were forced to resort to digging through the garbage for food. 

This, unfortunately, was not an exaggeration and Sam remembered more than once when his dad had gone out on a hunt and taken Dean with him, being resorted to dig through dumpsters for something that wouldn’t kill him if he ate it. 

And then, of course, there was that time he and Dean went to Heaven. 

And fuck Zachariah anyway. 

“You hear me, you whiny little shit? I wasn’t fooled! Not for one itty-bitty-little-skittle-bittle…” Sam stared for a moment, thinking, then gave a resolute nod. “Moment. Nope. Not fooled.

“He was, though,” he said, thinking of Dean. “He thought you were telling the truth and he hates me now. He hates hates hates hates hates me. He threw it away. He waited… he made me watch and then he threw me away.”

Sam put the bottle to his lips and tipped it back, the burn of whiskey on his throat hell and a relief a once. He didn’t want to be here today. He didn’t want to  _ exist.  _

“Wanted t’stop us, y’know,” he slurred, stumbling across the grass. “He wanted to s-stop us… stop us fighting but we nev’r stop fighting. Fighting’s what we’re best at. Human thing. We fight fight fight because it’s the only way to s’vive even if sometimes all you wanna to do is die. I want to sometimes. Sometimes I just want to stop. Stop and never ever ever have to start again. But no one lets me. Why won’t you let me stop?”

He could feel the tears running down his cheeks, cool against hot skin, but they didn’t seem important in the face of explaining this. “Cas got it. I think. Cas understood once he fell and was one of us. He understood that we fought even when we wanted to die, because we have to. It’s why we exist, isn’t it? That’s what Chuckles McAssbutt made us for.

“And Gabriel got it. He did. He got it and he stood with us a-and--” His breath shuddered as he tried to draw in a breath. “He’s okay. He’s okay. You’re here and he’s okay and it’s not going to happen. It won’t. He won’t die, I won’t let him.” 

“I don’t fucking like it. If we’re taking opinions. Zero stars. Can I give God a bad Yelp review? Do they even have Yelp yet? And why’s it called Yelp? A yelp’s a dog noise. The dog yelped when I hit it, y’know. I wish I was the dog. That dog. He’s dead, or was dead. Will be dead? I’ll be dead too, but it doesn’t stick. It never sticks. Should stick. It would be better.”

He stopped and looked down at the bottle of whiskey in his hand. “I forgot alcohol's a depressant. I feel like fucking garbage. Cas, why didn’t you tell me drinking a whole liquor store makes you feel like a dump truck? Garbage truck. Garbage can. Trash.” 

He swallowed another mouthful of whiskey, nearly falling over as his head tilted back. “You all  _ suck _ ,” he declared firmly to the sky. “I used to pray to you every night because Dean said Mom used to tell him angels were watching over us. But you weren’t. Not watching to guard us. Just watching. Bunch of fucking vultures looking f’r a meal. Every single one of you is a heartless megalomaniac. Even—even Cas hates my fucking guts and the worst part is I FUCKING MISS HIM!” He threw the empty whiskey bottle and heard it smash a few yards away. He couldn’t see it in the dark. The park didn’t have any lights. 

“I wish I could hate you, Cas. I wish I could hate you but you were like my best friend. You were my brother. But now it’s all gone. It’s all gone and you hate me again but I can’t hate you because you’re still here.” He pounded his chest and winced. “I hate every single one of you except I don’t because I can’t and why did you make me like this?” He looked up at the sky, the stars blurred by his tears. “Chuck? Why did you make me broken?”

He looked around, searching for where he’d set down the other bottle of whiskey he’d brought with him, but the world danced around him tauntingly. It made his insides feel like angry soup. “M’all full of cracks,” he mumbled, stumbling. 

He let out a whoof of breath and blinked at the stars. “Why am I on the ground?” He thought about getting up but it seemed like too much work, even for more whiskey. He laid his head back and stared at the sky. “It’s bright tonight. I like that, when I can see the stars. It makes the world seem big. Like it’s bigger than me and maybe I can’t kill it by fucking up. I do that, y’now. I fuck up and I kill the world. S’what I’m good for. Sammy Winchester, the boy who broke the world.” 

“Maybe Dad shoulda killed me when he figured out what the demon did. Not told Dean to do it. He told Dean and Dean couldn’t do it because Dean loved me too much. Loved me more than the world, but then I broke the world and it was too late and Dean regretted not killing me. He told me that, you know. He was done trying to save me. Time to hunt the hunter. 

“Guess you did make him in your image, huh? Tells one son to kill the other only Michael was the good son. He didn’t fuck it up. Followed orders like a good little soldier. Dean fucked it up. He let me get everyone killed. Everyone. All my fault. 

“I really am an abomination,” he said with startled revelation. “I always thought Cas was wrong but… but I really do belong in Hell. I thought maybe… maybe I could fight it, but I was made for him, wasn’t I?” The tears burned as they ran down his cheeks. “I’m always gonna end up strapped to Lucifer. You know he feels like being chained to the sun while it explodes and just keeps exploding over and over and over and over. I burn up but I never die and I just keep being eaten alive again and again and again and again until there’s nothing left at all except even then I know I’m there. I’m gone but I’m there and it never stops. It never ever stops.”

“Oh, but the waiting is the worst part.” 

Sam wasn’t even surprised. He turned his head lightly and looked at the Devil. He was wearing Nick’s body again, circling around Sam like a predator circling its prey. Nick’s face was already rotting under the force of Lucifer’s grace, his eyes burning with ice.

“You know that, Sam? The fall is nothing. Knowing it’s coming but not knowing  _ when _ \- that’s what hurts.”

“You’re not really here,” Sam murmured. “I know you’re not. You’re still in your cage. Just in my head. Brought the crazy back with me.”

Lucifer’s eyes crinkled in cruel amusement, his lips upturned in a grin. “Come on, Sam… just because I’m in your head doesn’t mean I’m not here. It doesn’t matter where we are. I can still make your life  _ hell _ .” 

“No,” Sam muttered, shaking his head, but the movement just made bile rise to the back of his throat. His heart was already hammering too fast in his chest. That was wrong, he knew that. He couldn’t figure out why but something wasn’t good. Not good. He needed to get up and go… somewhere. Somewhere. He needed…

“You know how to make the wait easier,” Lucifer was saying, his voice gentle but it was just a ruse. Sam knew that. Just a lie. It was always a lie. “Make it so much shorter. All it will take is one little word. That’s all. Just one tiny word.” 

Sam couldn’t move as the devil straddled his hips. The cold burned worse than fire, even through Sam’s jeans. He whimpered as Lucifer leaned down until he lay across Sam’s body like a block of ice, cold fingers grabbing Sam’s hair and pulling until Sam’s breath choked out of him in pain. Lucifer hissed in his ear. His breath smelled like the graves he and Dean had needed to dig up to burn bones, the ones that had only been interred a few months to a year prior.

“Say yes, Sam,” Lucifer whispered on a cold, rotting breath. Icy lips pressed against the side of his neck in a sick mockery of a kiss. “Say yes and the wait will stop. No more hanging on to futility while the end inches closer. Get it over now and we’ll ride the sun together.”

He couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. His teeth were wired together with the clenched force of his jaw. He could feel his nostrils flaring as air thundered in and out of his lungs, almost as loud as his racing heartbeat in his ears. 

Lucifer trailed his lips up along Sam’s jawline, pressed a kiss just beneath his ear. “Imagine what your brother would say if he saw you now. Stepped back fifteen years just to walk the same path all over again. Not even fighting to make a difference. Not even trying to warn him what’s coming. Shame.” He trailed his nose over Sam’s skin just like Jess used to do when they were making love. Acid burned in Sam’s throat and his eyes blurred with tears. “You could have called him, Sam, that first day. You could have called him and told him about me. You could have warned him that I’m coming. I’m coming and I’m going to take you and wear you like a suit until you’re threadbare rags on my grace, and then I’m going to let you watch the world burn before Hell greets you as her king.

“And to think, Sweet Samuel, all it would have taken to stop me is telling brother dear what you really are, but of course you know why you didn’t.” Cold lips froze the tears on his cheeks to ice. “I am everything that you deserve. I am the only thing that you deserve, my little boy king. And it doesn’t matter how hard you try to fight it, Sam. Your soul knows.  _ You will always be mine _ .” Lips pressed a tender kiss against his temple. “Say yes, Sam, and we’ll stop this foolish game of pretending. Say yes and it will all end now. That’s what you want, isn’t it? For it all to end? I can do that for you. Just one little word, sweet boy.” He kissed Sam’s cheek. “Say yes.” 

Sam’s jaw unclenched like a vice had been released and he let out a sob. 

“Say it.”

“Y—“

“I’m gonna stop you right there, kiddo.” 

The whole world seemed to shift, brightening, like Sam had been sitting in a tunnel, unseen cars rushing by on either side, and suddenly there was silence and calm. Lucifer had gone still above him. Not frozen-in-time still but waiting-to-strike still. Like a snake watching his prey come closer. 

“There’s enough you’re going to regret in the morning without adding that cherry on top of your banana split.” 

Gabriel stepped into view then, hands in his pockets. He was wearing the familiar green jacket and dark pants. He was shoeless, standing barefoot in the grace, and his eyes were sunshine bright even in the dark night. Sam almost thought he could see shadows behind him, like wings, but there were only spots dancing in front of his eyes. He forced himself to draw in a breath. It burned its way into his lungs, ice cold. 

“Get out of here, Loki.” 

Gabriel offered Lucifer a bemused smile as he studied him. “That’s not what you would call me.” He tilted his head to the side in a gesture so reminiscent of Castiel that Sam’s chest ached with loneliness. “Oh.” He looked at Sam then and his eyes were so sad that it hurt Sam to breathe. “Oh, kiddo.”

“Sam Winchester is mine,” Lucifer growled, laying over Sam like a dog curled snarling over his food bowl. Sam felt his insides curdle like old milk. Gabriel - Loki, he was Loki here and now - knew his name. It was over, then, wasn’t it? He should have said yes from the start. He should’ve never even bothered to come back. 

Gabriel — Loki, this was  _ Loki _ — snapped his fingers and the devil flinched away. “You don’t exist,” Loki said, his voice like ice and stone - the high peak of a mountain in the thin chill air, unattainable Everest. “You’re nothing but dark memories and cruel thoughts wrapped up in a face not suited for radio.” He snapped his fingers sharply and there was a heavy weight in the air, the oppressive presence of thunder hanging low overhead. “Now leave.”

Lucifer rippled away like a heat mirage, leaving only the cold air of the night pressed up against Sam’s skin. He shivered hard against the sudden change. He felt naked, lying on the grass in the cold November weather. 

He heard a sigh and his whole body tensed, but it was only Loki. The trickster god dropped into a crouch a few feet from him and eyed him with a serious expression. “You’re having a lousy holiday, aren’t you, Sam-a-Lamb?”

Sam flinched at the name. It was too familiar to the nicknames his version of Gabriel had called him before Sam had gotten him killed. Like he got everyone killed. 

“What’re you thinking in that great big head of yours, hm?”

Sam didn’t answer. 

“All right, then.” Gabriel shifted into a kneeling position, one knee buried in the earth. His hand lifted slightly so Sam could see them but didn’t reach out, and the pagan god ducked his head until his golden eyes caught Sam’s. “Hey there, kiddo. You mind if I touch you? I promise it won’t hurt.”

Sam licked his lips but he couldn’t make his throat work. Instead, he gave a small nod. 

Loki moved slowly, his eyes never leaving Sam’s. He lowered his other knee to the ground, his legs tucked underneath him, and reached out toward Sam’s head. 

Against his wishes, he flinched away, and Gabriel stilled above him. “All right, no touching the face.” The hands retreated and Sam watched them reach for his own instead. He lifted his arms slightly and Gab—Loki’s hand slid beneath his. The god’s skin was warm to the touch, like wrapping your hands around a mug of hot chocolate after being outside in the snow, and Sam sighed softly in relief. 

Loki chuckled low in his throat. “Like that, hm?” His thumbs ran over the back of Sam’s fingers, leaving a tingling brush of warm air behind, like a soft exhale on cold hands. Sam’s breath shuddered out of him. 

“Did you know that I have never been to Palo Alto before?” the god said softly. “Been all over California, of course. Hollywood’s a big draw for a trickster, but I’ve not been here before. Seems a shame not to’ve graced this place with my presence ‘til now, but better late than not at all.” His hands slid around so they cupped the back of Sam’s, guiding his hands until his palms were pressed together. Loki bent over him, hands still cupped lie warm sunshine around his. “You sit up for me, kiddo?”

Sam blinked slowly up at him, his brain feeling foggy. He was still lying down. Carefully, he sat up, his back straining to get him upright without needing to pull his hands from Loki’s warm grasp. 

The god was smiling at him when he was sitting upright. “There you go. We’re halfway to standing.” Sam gave him a passable bitchface and Loki laughed. “Trust me, kiddo, you are going to be glad not to be lying down for this.” He wrapped one arm around Sam’s shoulders and used the other hand to pull Sam’s hands apart, guiding them to either side of him as he shuffled so Sam was leaning against his side.

The hand against Sam’s back pushed forward until Sam was leaning over, blinking blearily at the grass. 

“Sorry about this, Sammy.” And then there was a sensation like someone had shoved their hand into his stomach and dragged everything upward. 

Acid burned the back of his throat and Sam leaned over, vomiting hard into the grass. The arm across his back shifted, hand smoothing over taut muscles as he heaved and convulsed. Loki’s other hand was pressed flat against his chest, burning like a brand. 

“Easy. Almost done.”

The whole park smelled like vomit and whiskey and Sam wanted to cut off his own nose and his taste buds and never ever drink again. There were tears running from his eyes, blurring his vision, and his stomach roiled with nausea. His entire body was drenched in sweat but he couldn’t stop shivering. If Loki hadn’t had him held tight in strong arms, Sam would have collapsed to the ground and just laid there. He felt weak and ready to just… sleep. 

“Not yet, Sam. Stay awake.” 

“Wanna sleep,” he whined, even as Gabriel’s hand cupped his forehead from behind and guided his head back. The nausea faded and the feeling of someone digging through his guts disappeared, but Sam’s focus was on the warm body he was guided to lean back against, smaller than his but so much stronger. Sam let out a low noise in his throat that he wasn’t sure he could have identified if he was sober. 

“Shh, sweetheart.” Gentle fingers brushed through his hair. “If I didn’t know how badly Luci could get inside a person’s head, I would be terribly angry with you right now. Might still be angry, to be honest.” The other hand ran soothingly across his chest and Sam felt his muscles relax, felt something painful within him ease, like a cramp loosening. “You have no idea how close you were to ending it all right here tonight, and I don’t mean by saying yes. Human body isn’t meant to hold that much alcohol, Sam. What in Asgard’s golden halls were you thinking?”

His head felt muddier than it had a moment ago, like vomiting up his guts had taken all of his clarity with it. He felt raw, and he was fairly sure that he should hurt considerably more than he did, but he couldn’t comprehend why he didn’t. 

Fingers scritched through his hair, scratching gently at his skull, and Sam’s eyes slid shut as he hummed in pleasure. “Talk to me, Sam-a-Lamb.”

“Gabriel,” he murmured. He knew that stupid nickname and there was only one creature in existence who ever called him that. “Missed you.” 

The fingers stilled briefly. “Oh, Sam.” The archangel began petting his hair again. “You are a wonder. Imagine my surprise when you show up before my court, wrapped up like a present just for me, tied and twisted with ribbons of Time. You cannot imagine how difficult it was for me to send you back to your little college apartment and not snap you right into my bed. The only consolation was the hour you asked for, a promise I dearly intend to keep.” 

“Not gonna take it now?”

“Your boon?” The trickster laughed. “And waste what could be the most interesting date I’ve had in centuries? Not a chance.” His hand reached out and wrapped around the bracelet on Sam’s wrist. Sam gasped as it warmed, leaving a ring of heat against his arm and tingling with something more. Something that sent shivers racing up his spine and coiled like a hungry snake in his abdomen. 

“Do you think I give just  _ anyone _ my mark? Oh no. Such gifts as these are limited to a very special few, yet you have tempted my hand further. I have never marked an obsidian bracelet with more than my sigil. And yet here you have me painting eggs in crystal.” His teeth bit down lightly on the lobe of Sam’s ear. “All over a fucking cadbury creme egg. Samuel Winchester, you have brought me to my limits.” His voice dropped down to a whisper, his breath warm at Sam’s ear. “What will you think up next?”

“Depends,” Sam murmured, smiling as Gabriel hummed in interest behind him. “What would it take to keep you?”

“Do not tempt me, Sam Winchester,” Gabriel -- Loki, for the fierce claim in that voice was definitely the trickster god -- growled into his ear, “or I may weave myself into your path here and twist Fate’s design to nothing.” 

Sam felt tears fill his eyes, thinking of the designs and plans that had so far ruled his life. “Could you?” he asked, and the words came out on a shameful sob. “Could you break prophecy if you tried?”

Loki’s hand smoothed over his hair once more and then both of the god’s arms wrapped around him from behind, holding him tight. He felt Loki’s chin rest on his shoulder, his body warm as it curled flush against Sam’s back. “There is faith and then there is following foolishly. I have seen both in my years, both while serving my Father and serving myself. Faith is trusting that there is a plan but knowing that means that you must walk a path that diverges, that forces you to choose, for the tree of your life cannot grow if its trunk does not branch out across possibilities. Following foolishly is knowing there is a plan and believing that the plan in place will take care of everything. That all good deeds will come from a god who watches overhead like a lord over his kingdom, all choices made, all paths chosen by someone else. 

“Fate is not a road lined with barbed wire and your path  _ is not set _ . It is Yggdrasil, Sam. You are walking the branches of Yggdrasil, picking the placement of your feet, and it is your choices that will bring you to the fruit that hangs from her limbs.  _ You _ choose where you walk. And the path will be hard. The journey will be long. But you are Samwise the Brave,” he pressed a kiss to Sam’s neck, “and I have faith in you.” 

They lingered there for a time, Loki’s hand running gently through his hair, smoothing down his back and arms and easing tensed muscles. Sam’s mind wandered, unfocused, grounded only by Loki’s smooth hands, his chest pressed warmly against Sam’s back. Every now and then, the god would press lips to Sam’s cheek or his temple. Sam was certain he was dreaming but he didn’t mind. He would save his regrets for when he woke up. For now, he basked in the feeling of Gabriel’s arms around him and imagined he was home. 

“Come on, kiddo. Time for all Samooses to be getting to bed.” 

The god stood, hands under his arms pulling Sam to his feet. He wavered, mind like a fog he couldn’t balance in, but Loki was there, arm wrapped around his waist, and the god kept him steady as they walked forward. 

“S’dark,” Sam muttered, disappointed that he couldn’t see the stars anymore. “Sky went to sleep.” 

Loki chuckled brightly at his side. “Oh, the sky’s still awake, Samsquatch, but you need to open your eyes to see it.”

Sam blinked open his eyes. Oh. He looked up. 

“Whoa!” Loki said, laughing, his arm tightening around Sam as the taller man stumbled. “I think all that alcohol went straight to your legs. You are a noodle. A noodle-Sam. Samoodle.” 

Sam squinted at the god. “Are you drunk?”

“Am  _ I  _ drunk?” Loki guffawed. “Oh, you are in for a morning, Sugarplum.”

“M’not a fairy.” 

“You’re something.” 

Loki’s arm was warm around him. Sam liked it. It felt like a hug.

“I could use my other arm if you’d like, give you the full experience.” 

“You’re not s’posed to be reading my head.” They had made sure that wouldn’t be possible. Sam had the ink all over his back to prove it and he’d check it to be sure it was right. No angels in his head. 

“Don’t need to when you’re brain to mouth filter is kaput, but don’t worry. All your secrets are safe with me.” 

“Y’know ‘m all anyway. Or did know. Will know? Time is weird.” 

“Try being a creature that travels through time  _ and _ multiple dimensions regularly. I’ve done things you don’t have thoughts for, nevermind words.” 

“Hedonist.” 

“You know it.” 

They were silent for a long time, just walking. Loki guided them through the grass and onto a sidewalk. It was pale and shone like a white river in the dark. Sam was worried he’d fall in and drown. 

“Don’t worry, kiddo. We’re just gonna walk right on top of it like good ol’ J.C.” Sam blinked at him. “Come on, kiddo, I know you know your Bible stories.”

“Jesus?”

“Mmhm. The big man himself.” 

“You knew him?”

“I kissed his cueball head when he was a baby. You bet your ass I knew him. Fun guy. Big dreams. You remind me of him a bit. You ever consider trying on robes? Be a good look on you.”

“It’s just like… a bed sheet,” Sam muttered. 

“Yep! Crawl out of bed in the morning and take your blankets with you. No muss, no fuss. Plus you can skip boxers and no one’s the wiser.” 

Sam was silent for a long moment, thinking. The white river was surprisingly solid beneath his feet. Maybe Gabriel had turned it to stone. But the bedsheets... “You just wanna see my junk.” 

Gabriel threw his head back and his laughter echoed around the park. “Well, if you’re offering, don’t think I’m the type to say no.” 

“You always wanted to… or I did. Thought about it then, before you were Loki.”

“Before I was Loki, huh?”

“Mmhm. You looked sexy in your uniform. I liked it.” 

“Really?”

“Mm… and then we found out you were the trickster and you weren’t the janitor and I was sad.” 

“I’m sorry I made you sad, Sam.”

“S’ok. Wasn’t this you. Different you. Dean liked the hookers. I think he wanted to take the bribe, but then you brought out chainsaws.” He pouted. “Why couldn’t we’ve just used mops?”

Gabriel was grinning. “Mops?”

“Mm, yeah, mops and swords. Like a lance. A clean lance.” 

“Sam Winchester,” Gabriel said, sounded scandalized. “Are you suggesting that we should have compared dicks? Because I want you to know, I love this plan.”

Sam giggled and the sound was so ridiculous coming from him that it made him giggle even harder, until his legs gave out and Gabriel laughed as they both sank to the ground. Sam wrapped his arms around Gabriel and buried his nose in the archangel’s hair. 

“I like your face,” he muttered. 

“I’m getting that.” A hand rubbed up and down Sam’s back. It felt nice. “I’m rather fond of yours, too.” 

“I think I’d like your dick, too. I bet it’s pretty.” 

Gabriel laughed loudly and his hand slipped into Sam’s hair. “You are absolutely ridiculous,” he murmured, “and I really need to get you to bed. You are far too tempting sitting out here on the lawn.” 

“‘fraid someone will steal me?”

“I’m afraid I might just snap you back to Asgard with me.” He pulled away so they were eye-to-eye. “In case you weren’t aware, kiddo, I have poor impulse control.” He snapped his fingers.

The reappeared in Sam’s apartment, sitting on top of his bed. Sam blinked and looked around. “You cheated.” 

“Are you surprised?” He pushed Sam back until the younger man flopped onto his back and yawned. 

“I thought we were going to Asgard?”

“Not today, Samoose.” 

“Awwwwwww,” Sam whined loudly.

Gabriel chuckled and ran his fingers down Sam’s arm. Sam shivered and felt his focus return, the swooping sensation of drunkenness leave in a rush. He blinked up at Gabriel, who was grinning down at him. “You couldn’t have done that before?”

“Trust me, Sam-a-Lamb, the  _ last _ thing you want is to have all that alcohol suddenly leave your veins. You would’ve been worse than sick.” He snapped his fingers and the blankets were on top of Sam. 

“Did you move them or me?”

Gabriel chuckled. “So many questions.” 

The blankets were warm like they had just been pulled from the dryer and Sam relaxed back against his pillow as Gabriel carefully tucked the blankets around him. Sam watched him through his lashes, feeling his exhaustion full-force now that most of the alcohol was out of his system. 

“You’re gonna lose that battle, kiddo,” the archangel said, sitting on the edge of the bed beside him. “I can feel your sleepiness from here.”

“You won’t be here when I wake up.” He didn’t mean it to come out as a whine but he couldn’t seem to help it. He didn’t want Gabriel to go. He felt like he’d just gotten the archangel back, even if this Gabriel was different from the one he remembered, didn’t go through all the things Sam’s version had before… before Lucifer. 

“No, but I’ll be keeping my eye on my favorite Samsquatch.” The archangel smirked down at him. “Or all six of them.”

“Six eyes,” Sam murmured, blinking slowly. “Is Loki really a spider, then?”

“I do weave a tangled web.”

Sam smiled softly. He tried to open his eyes again but he was just so tired. “I’m gonna miss you,” he mumbled. 

“Oh, I’m not so far away.” Soft fingers ran over the skin of his wrist where the bracelet sat. He could feel the smooth obsidian rotating around his wrist. It felt like a bracelet made of cool water and a soft breeze and sunshine. “This is my sigil, Sam, and you Winchesters should know well the power of a name. This sigil is me. You have but to press a hand to my mark to remember that I am here with you, always.”

“I thought you gave your mark to others, too.” He didn’t feel jealous as he said the words, merely curious. Gabriel has been on the Earth for eons. It would be foolish not to think he had been with others. 

“A few,” the archangel said. “One or two of them were even lovers at one time. But most of my sigils have been put in place to protect those whom I love. You may even know one or two of them. Your bracelet is special, though.” Fingers pressed against the obsidian and it let out a low hum, like a finger trailing along the edge of a crystal glass. And then Sam felt it, a flood of emotion like the smell of the sea on a warm breeze, centered around the bracelet on his wrist and yet flowing through him, coursing through his veins. It was everything he felt for the archangel, yet somehow amplified, doubled and catching on the edge of his own feelings to race around again in an infinite loop. His stomach clenched with the cold ache of a want that centered more around his heart than his body, and Sam opened his eyes. 

Gabriel was looking at him with a gaze that was ancient and alien, for all that it seemed so familiar to Sam. His eyes were bright gold, glowing like twin suns, the light of them so fierce it stretched beyond his eyes, flowing out from them and around his head like smoke and pure power. Sam heard the gasp leave his lips, watched as Gabriel’s brows drew down in confusion and concern. 

“Sam?”

“Your eyes.” He could only stare at the golden orbs, his heart begging to bury himself inside them and wrap himself up in their warmth. “They burn like starlight.”

Gabriel’s smile was filled with all the wonder and awe of a child learning that magic was real. “Only for you.” And then his lips were on Sam’s and they were both burning, tearing through space like a meteor shower, shining bright across the sky. It was like kissing a comet, like holding onto a rocket, like walking on the surface of the burning hot sun and feeling only the cool press of lips against his and love like a brand around his wrist. 

Gabriel’s thumb rubbed across his temple, his other hand cupped the back of his neck, and Sam’s hands reached out blindly. His fingers grasped something soft that felt like the tremble of thunder against his skin and rain sliding under his fingertips. The archangel gasped against his lips and there was something amazing about a force of such power being brought to its knees by a touch. 

And then Gabriel’s tongue was in Sam’s mouth and he could taste lightning like pepper and cloves, could feel the hammering wind at his lips. Gabriel kissed him like this was their apocalypse and there was no tomorrow. Sam rode the hurricane winds of their desire like a bird too in love with the storm to hide from it. And when it carried him down into the darkness of sleep, he fell gladly in a dive that would shame a falcon. 

* * *

There were tears on his face when he pulled away. Gabriel kept his forehead pressed lightly to Sam’s, revelling in the touch of skin on skin and the connection that flowed between them. He didn’t want to leave, but he couldn’t stay. Sam would wake up with no memory of him beyond the vague recollection of dreams and that was as it should be. Sam Winchester wasn’t ready to have a pagan god archangel as a lover yet, and Gabriel wasn’t ready for him. 

Nevermind how unprepared the world would be.

With a sigh, Gabriel pressed his lips to Sam’s forehead, sealing the last of the memories away in dreams and half-understood thoughts. The human mind was an amazing thing and the subconscious held many secrets. Gabriel, at least, had no need to hide himself from that. Let Sam have him, if only in dreams. 

He pushed himself away from Sam reluctantly, climbing out of the bed and turned to face the other man in the room. Half-turned away from him, the young man was looking out the window, giving Gabriel what little privacy he could without leaving the room. 

Carefully, he tucked his grace back inside, burying his wings beneath the wild nature magick so interit to his second persona, and let himself fully return to being Loki. He spared Sam one last longing look, before he joined the other trickster in watching the sun rise. 

“You’ll watch over him for me?”

“I swore I would.” 

Loki nodded slowly, then raised a hand. “I’m going back to Asgard. There are steps that need to be taken now that so many things have been screamed in Heaven’s ears. If you need me, you know how to reach me.” 

“Of course,” the young man said, and watched as a snap of fingers carried the pagan god away. “Safe travels, father.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Summary of the chapter for those who did not wish to read it:
> 
> Sam gets drunk and starts screaming (praying loudly) to various angels in Heaven about how much they suck and how he wishes his life was different. There were mentions of Gabriel by name and how he is alive, someone named Cas (so not _necessarily_ Castiel, Zachariah, and God was referred to as Chuckles McAssbutt.
> 
> Lucifer arrived via a vision and creeped on Sam until Gabriel (Loki) showed up and made him leave. Drunken flirting and shenanigans ensued wherein Sam talks a lot, until Gabriel gets him back to Sam's apartment and tucks everyone's favorite moose into bed. 
> 
> Sam's memory is (mostly) erased and Gabriel tells another trickster present to keep an eye on Sam for him. The trickster agrees. 
> 
>  
> 
> **Thank you for reading, whether you read the chapter itself or the summary. Remember you can follow me on tumblr as TalkingToMyselfAgain.**


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